


do you think about us

by lucylikestowrite



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Banter, But still with, Explicit Consent, F/F, Smut, Teasing, both soft and hard, it is like, past unrequited amaya/zari, questionable decisions, there are complicated feelings here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 13:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16682347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucylikestowrite/pseuds/lucylikestowrite
Summary: “We both know that’s a lie,” Charlie says, moving closer again. “Come on, Zari, let’s just bang it out.”Zari screws up her face, rolling her eyes. “Did you just say ‘bang it out’? What are you, fifteen?”





	do you think about us

**Author's Note:**

> tfw there's no avalance to write an episode tag about BUT charlie and zari just really need to do something about that tension, so you guys get... this. oops?

Zari is in her bunk, trying to concentrate on her reading, trying to think about anything _but_ Amaya and Charlie, when she hears a cough. She looks up, and, of course, Charlie is lounging in her doorway, arms crossed, that ever-present smirk on her face.

Sighing, Zari slams the book shut, the sound ringing through the room. She looks up, her mouth set into a hard line, mirroring Charlie’s pose, crossing her arms across her chest. “What do you want?” she asks. “Because if you’re here to get in my face again, I’ve had just _enough_ of that for one day, thank you very much. I’m busy.”

“With your book?” Charlie asks, the expression on her face disdainful.

“Yes, with my book,” Zari says. “Hobbies are very important—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Charlie says, pushing away from the door, stepping inside. Zari bristles, clenching her jaw at the intrusion. “I’m not here to discuss literature.”

Zari shakes her head, gets up, moving across the room to stop Charlie before she can encroach on her space any further, before she can taint this room and Zari’s memories of Amaya in there. “Then _what_ exactly, are you here for?” she asks, stopping a foot in front of Charlie.

Charlie just smirks, and it’s infuriating. Zari wants to stomp her foot, wants to push her out of the room and never see her again, wants to push her up against the wall and—

She stops that thought in its tracks, gritting her teeth, because she’s not _Amaya_. She’s not the person Zari is in—

Another thought that she can’t afford to accommodate. She blinks, takes a breath, stares Charlie down.

“What I’m here for, _love_ , is to ask what you want to do about this?”

“This?” Zari asks, a barely concealed sneer on her face. “What the fuck is _this_?”

Charlie steps closer, and then there’s barely half a foot between them, barely even that. “The sexual tension, Z.”

Zari steps back automatically, shock running through her. She can’t process what Charlie just said, so she just focuses on the one part of the sentence she _can_ parse. “Don’t call me Z. Only my friends get to call me that. You’re not my friend.”

Charlie shrugs. “Fine.” She leans closer, and when she speaks again, it’s a low whisper, and she stretches the name out, making two syllables sound like twenty. “ _Zari_. We’re not friends. Doesn’t change what I said. We should do something about it.”

“I don’t— There isn’t— I’m not—” Zari is almost stammering, but she doesn’t know what to say, because Charlie’s right. There’s electricity in the air between them. You could cut it with a knife. She hates it.

Charlie smiles in a way that is more condescending than anything, then moves away, wanders around Zari’s room, examining it, tracing her fingers over Zari’s possessions. Zari stands stock still, watching her warily. “I’m sorry, but if you’re trying to pretend you’re not into girls, I’m not buying it,” Charlie says, a laugh in her voice. “Unless you haven’t figured it out yet, in which case, surprise! You’ve been looking at me like you’re not sure whether you want to fuck me or fight me.”

“Fight you,” Zari mutters, her jaw still clenched, Charlie’s words riling her up. “But I am perfectly comfortable in my sexuality, thank you very much. I’m just not into _you._ ” It’s a bold-faced lie, because she’s absolutely into her. Or, at least, she’s into Amaya, and sure, there’s something about Charlie’s personality that intrigues her, but it doesn’t _matter_ , because she _can’t._

But, despite Zari straight up rejecting her, Charlie is smirking again—presumably because she’d managed to get Zari to admit that she swings that way, and Zari suddenly has a horrible sinking feeling, that she’s stepped down a path that she’s not going to be able to step off of, that, if she’s honest, in the deepest part of her, she doesn’t want to step off.

“We both know _that’s_ a lie,” Charlie says, moving closer again. “Come on, Zari, let’s just bang it out.”

Zari screws up her face, rolling her eyes. “Did you just say ‘bang it out’? What are you, fifteen?”

“What would you prefer, _honey_?” Charlie asks, and then she moves forward, and one of her hands slides around Zari’s waist. Zari shivers, closes her eyes, sighing, trying to breathe. And then there’s a mouth on her neck, hot and close, pressing down lightly before whispering. “Fuck? Screw?”

She doesn’t smell like Amaya, like how Amaya had whenever they’d hugged. She doesn’t know if her lips feel the same. Doesn’t know what Amaya’s lips had felt like.

Charlie isn’t Amaya.

Zari still wants her.

Charlie bites down, and Zari’s eyes snap open. “Gideon?” she calls.

“Yes, Miss Tomaz? Would you like me to lock our _guest_ out?” Gideon says it like she very much doesn't consider Charlie a guest.

Zari gets a hand on Charlie’s chest, pushing her, and she stumbles backwards. Something like doubt flashes behind her eyes, like she’s suddenly wondering if she had pushed this too far, and Zari wonders if, maybe, she does have a bit of a conscience. “Zari—”

“Shut up,” Zari says, roughly, and then looks upwards. “Gideon. Close and lock the door.”

“Now? With her _inside_?” Gideon asks, sounding as uncertain as an AI can.

Zari nods. The door slides shut a split second before Charlie hits it, her back flat against the metal. For the shortest moment, there’s a smirk on her face as she realises what Zari has just done, and then it’s gone—because Zari is kissing her, her hands either side of Charlie’s face, pressing in deeper. She’s not gentle. She’s biting down, forcing Charlie’s mouth open. One of Charlie’s hands moves to rest on her hip, and Zari kind of hates it, so she pulls away for a second. “Hands,” she whispers, roughly, yanking them up above Charlie’s head, holding them in place.

Charlie doesn’t resist, but tilts her head. “You like being in control, huh?”

Zari sighs, shakes her head, because, no, not usually. Not usually to this extent. “You’re just annoying as hell, Charlie.”

But Charlie shakes her head. “That’s not it.”

“God, shut up,” Zari says again, moving to kiss her again, shut her up, and Charlie lets her for a few seconds, and then pulls back again.

“It’s the face, isn’t it? It’s weird?”

Zari rolls her eyes. “Obviously it’s fucking weird. You’re wearing my— friend’s face.” She hesitates for a split second too long, and immediately recognition is flicking over Charlie’s face. Over Amaya’s face. But not _really_ Amaya’s face, because that exact recognition had never shown itself on her. She’d never realised. Charlie has realised in all of a few weeks with Zari.

“You were in love with her?” Charlie asks, and that hint of a conscience is showing again.

“No, I—”

Charlie raises an eyebrow.

Zari sighs, finally releasing Charlie’s hands. “Yes.”

“I’m not her,” Charlie says.

“I know,” Zari says. “I know. I know that.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, God, I’m not an idiot. Just. Kiss me again,” she says, her voice bordering on desperate.

“I’m not Amaya, Zari,” Charlie repeats. “If you can’t—”

Zari doesn’t know what else to say, so she gives in, falling back against Charlie, kissing her again, trying to say what she can’t voice with her lips instead. She pulls Charlie backwards, towards the bed, clawing at her shirt, desperate to get rid of it. She needs this, so bad it almost hurts. She’s gasping for breath, and when they hit the bed, it’s clear Charlie has finally given in, because the tension dissipates from her body. Zari falls back against the sheets, thankful. She needs to be touched. She needs someone to make her forget Amaya, and, in a strange, twisted sort of way, maybe Charlie is the perfect person for that.

The logic absolutely doesn’t work, but she’s not working with logic. She’s working with her heart and this needy feeling between her legs, and they’re telling her that this the only right decision. Maybe she’ll regret it in the morning. But, right now, she needs it more than air.

And then Charlie pulls away. “Zari?” There’s a question on her face, without her needing to say the rest of it.

Zari groans. “Stop being fucking principled, Charlie. You’re the one who came in here because you wanted to bang it out. I’ve admitted that there’s, you know,” she waves her hand vaguely, the other one covering her face, “tension. Just get me out of my pants before I change my mind.”

Charlie doesn’t need to be told twice. Zari’s jeans are gone thirty seconds later. Charlie crawls on top of her, and it feels right, more than pinning her to the door hand. There’s a smirk on her face as she looks down at Zari, and Zari swallows. It’s almost like Charlie can read her mind, can tell that Zari’s liking the role reversal, is more comfortable like this, because a second later, Zari’s arms are above her head, Charlie’s fingers encircling her wrists, and Zari gasps, the sound swallowed when Charlie leans down, kisses her again.

She’s still fully dressed, and the various studs and divots on her clothes are pressing into Zari’s skin—and Zari likes it.

Her chest rises and falls quicker and quicker. Her heartbeat speeds up, speeds up more when Charlie’s hand snakes underneath Zari’s shirt, roaming over her stomach, rucking it up further so she can get to Zari’s breasts.

Zari squirms, and when Charlie pulls back, Zari's breathing is uneven, her eyes surely wild. “God,” Zari breathes. “Fuck.”

Charlie smirks again, that expression sending pulses of arousal through her body, then leans down, whispers in Zari’s ear. “You know, I was going to finger you, but I think I’ll just eat you out.”

Zari swallows again, her throat dryer than dry. The words are another indication that this isn’t Amaya. Not that she’d ever been in bed with her, but she has a feeling she’d never be that crude. She can’t imagine Amaya forming those words with her mouth, isn’t sure they even _used_ words like that in the 40s.

“Is that a yes?”

Zari doesn’t say anything, just finds Charlie’s head, shoving it downwards. That movement is just enough to tell herself that she still has a little bit of control over this situation—and then Charlie hooks her fingers underneath Zari’s panties, pulling them down so slowly Zari wants to scream, and the feeling of control disappers. The worst thing is, she doesn't even care.

She just wants relief, wants satisfaction from this, wants to—she rolls her eyes internally—wants to _bang it out_ , and Charlie is _teasing_ her, and it’s so frustrating. She grits her teeth, tries to sit up, to look at Charlie, but Charlie pushes her back down. “Patience,” Charlie says, and it’s even more frustrating, because she rolls it off her tongue in a way that is so much more sexy than one word should be allowed to be.

“Charlie,” she says, her tone a warning, her jaw still tight. “If you don’t get on with it soon, it’s not happening.”

Charlie just laughs, her fingers pressing into Zari’s thighs, and _smirks_ again. “We both know that’s not true.”

“I’m being serious, Charlie, I need this.”

“I know,” and for a second, the bravado is gone again, as Charlie acknowledges the deeper feelings going on her, feelings that are scary and messy and that can’t be fixed by one fuck, but that, for whatever reason, mean that Zari needs this more than air.

“Then just, fucking, get on with it,” Zari says, gasping for breath, her breath catching in her throat when Charlie’s mouth hits her inner thigh, licking closer, but still not close enough.

And then Charlie looks up, tilting her head, says, “Make me,” and that infuriating cadence is back in her voice. Behind her expression, though, there’s something there. She’s showing Zari her face again, making sure Zari remembers who she’s about to sleep with—and asking for one final check. Zari closes her eyes, and finally pushes Charlie down to where she needs her, tangling her fingers in her hair, the hair that is so different to how Amaya had always worn it, tight curls underneath her fingertips.

When her tongue hits Zari, Zari has to hold in a yelp, because it’s been so long, and Charlie knows how do this, knows how to do this well, and it’s too much, it’s not enough, it’s everything and nothing and she’s not Amaya, she’s someone different, and that’s okay. Her hand presses down tighter into Charlie’s hair, fingers digging into her scalp. At some point, her back arches, and Charlie places a hand on her stomach, easing her back down to the mattress.

Zari wonders, briefly, where Charlie got this good at this, and then she’s not thinking anything anymore, because Charlie flicks her tongue, does something that makes Zari’s vision blur for a second.

Thirty seconds later, white hot heat is spreading through her, so close to falling that she can taste it—and then it hits, and Zari breaks, crumpling in on herself, pleasure washing through her. She can feel her toes curling, and knows she’s making noises, but she’s out of her body, not thinking about anything, not thinking about how loud she’s being.

She’s just glad that ever since Ava and Sara got together, she’d had the idea to soundproof all the bunks, just in case.

When she comes back to herself, Charlie is still pressed up against her, and she can almost feel her smirk, and it’s ridiculous, but it feels like if she just stayed like that, Zari could maybe come again.

Charlie doesn’t, though. She moves her mouth away, and Zari has to hold in a whine, and then immediately hates herself for being so needy.

Charlie is staring at her with too much of what looks like feelings on her face, and then she opens her mouth to say something and it’s too much for Zari, that expression and the thought of having to answer whatever Charlie's going to say, so she sits up, pulling Charlie up her body, dragging her into a kiss, her fingers toying with Charlie’s zipper. When she speaks, it's to control the conversation, to make sure they're only talking about sex, and nothing else. “Come on, Charlie,” she says, her voice low, her fingertips pressing below her jeans, not even surprised when she doesn’t find underwear there, when her fingers are touching skin straight away. “We’re only halfway done.”

“You gonna fuck me like this?” Charlie asks, raising her eyebrow. “Through my clothes?”

She’s not going to admit that she needs the clothes, needs the reminder that this isn't Amaya, so she just nods, pulling Charlie into another kiss, and pressing her fingers lower until Charlie gasps when Zari hits the spot, her expression twisting into surprise when Zari works into her easily, despite the angle, the constraint of her pants.

Zari smirks. Charlie’s not the only one who’s surprisingly good at this.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry not sorry for making the first zarlie fic smut? i was so surprised that no-one had written anything yet but i just. had to write smut because like COME ON that episode. plus smut is easier because actual feelings for these two are. weird. at least atm. so this was more. kinda smut with like mutual understanding that things are weird and strange and it's not necessarily supposed to lead to any sort of like. real feelings for now. hope that came across lmao
> 
> this was more an experiment than anything - obviously i am not used to writing things that aren't avalance.


End file.
